"Ho! ho! ho!" panted the Infant. "He's coaxed us out of all our remaining Damtidam."
I grinned a sickly response.
"Great Scot!" the Infant bellowed. "What's this howling wilderness of shirt-front?"
"It's cooler," I explained.
CHAPTER III.
THE QUEEN COMES INTO PLAY.
I had to breakfast in my room, but by lunch the next day my friends had found an opportunity to explain me to Jones. They had on several occasions strongly exhorted Jones to secrecy as to my rank, so that the eyes of the whole table were on me when I entered. I ate with the ease of one conscious of giving involuntary lessons in etiquette to a furtive-glancing bourgeoisie. The Infant gave me Tintara, to break me gradually of champagne and reduce me to malt. After lunch Towers remonstrated with Jones on having obviously given me away.
"Sir," protested Jones, in righteous indignation, "I promised to tell no one in the hotel, and I have kept my word!"
"Well, how do they know then?" enquired Towers.
"I shouldn't be surprised if they read it in the Visitors' List," Jones answered.
Being now half-emancipated, I fell into the usual routine of a seaside holiday. I swam, I rowed, I walked, I lounged, whenever Jones would let me. One wet morning we even congratulated ourselves on our luxurious sitting-room, as we sat and smoked before the rain-whipt sea, till, unexpected, Jones brought up lunch for three. That evening, as we
